Growth Spurt
by Lizard Pie
Summary: France talks America into buying more than he intended to, in this case the entirety of his Louisiana claim.


The suit America had shown up in looked like Italian construction on Chinese materials. It was extravagant, as if that alone would hide how his over-grown limbs jutted out or how his pimples were only held at bay by the southern sun. He was much too young to be here. But, at the same time, he was much too opportunistic not to be.

France was, too, though. He smiled as America wolfed down the provided food. It'd probably been quite some time since he'd had a decent meal.

"Amérique, I have to know, which one of the territories spilled my little secret? Was it Mississippi? Georgia?"

America knew, but shrugged. "Just heard it around."

"I see. And you were on a boat the next hour?"

He was no, which was the truth. It hadn't taken him anywhere near an hour.

"Spain controlling New Orleans was too much trouble," America said, "I can't have that happen again."

The boy had become very adamant about being an isolationist. If all he knew was that New Orleans had changed hands from one hostile power to another, he wouldn't have left home.

He must have heard about the failure in Haiti somehow. Or, maybe one of the campaigns in Europe… France began to wonder exactly how far America's eyes and ears had spread, or if he was simply giving him too much credit. He was still young and naïve about what it took to be a real nation. Maybe he really had traveled all the way to Paris to control one port.

That was a wonderful possibility.

"So, what was your plan? Were you thinking of taking New Orleans off my hands?"

America grinned, his mature persona forgotten for childish eagerness. "Exactly!"

"That's Big Brother's only port around your house, you know. It would hurt me quite a bit…"

"I can pay!" he insisted, quickly.

"If I lose my port, what good is the land I've acquired?" France let the tragedy of the situation seep into his voice. "All those resources, and no ability to ship them…"

"I… I would let you ship!" America said. His limbs splayed as he motioned for calm. "I'd barely tax you or anything…!"

"Or," France said. He clapped his hands together and smiled as if the idea has suddenly occurred to him. "I could simply sell you my entire claim."

America faltered. His eyes darted as he calculated within his head. "Th-that would double…"

France gasped. "Double your land? Oh, my, my… I suppose it would! That'd be quite the responsibility!" He leaned forward with a grin. "Still, it's quite an interesting proposition, isn't it? It'd get you that much closer to your dream of making it to the west coast."

When America had been a colony, he'd rarely if ever been seen at meetings between nations. The few times he showed up outside of Britian's watchful eye, his assignment had been pinned to his chest. He'd improved from there, but not by much. His papers, along with all his figures, were laid out on the table for anyone interested to see.

America took a while to gather himself, and contain the little whimpers of restrained excitement. His body shook with possibility as he came up with the only thing he could think of to say. "This… this would be a huge purchase."

"The biggest you'll probably ever make," France said. "And I could let it go for… oh… 15 million? That's 3 cents an acre, Amérique, it's quite the bargain."

"It is…" America looked him over as if France would let anything be told by his face. "Why are you doing this…?"

France waved him off. "Big Brother is becoming much too old for the empire business. And with Angleterre being such a brute, I need the money to defend my home."

It was true, mostly, of course. Great Britain was the pushy sort who was itching to ruin his European campaign. The money was important to keep him at bay, but France was more concerned with the claim just sitting there. It would easily be snatched up as soon as Great Britain and the United States turned a more militaristic eye toward it. And Spain hadn't exactly been cooperative lately. He was always eager for more land, and if for one second he thought it would be undefended…

The Louisiana claim was a war waiting to happen, but America simply hadn't seen enough battles yet to recognize that. With how the muscles had begun to form on those ungainly limbs, he definitely would eventually. France cared little for when that 'eventually' was.

"How much were you willing to spend on the port?"

America paused, as if embarrassed about wanting to purchase only a city when compared to what he was offered. "My boss said… no more than 10 million."

"10 million for one city!" France exclaimed. "The streets would need to be paved with gold to justify that! Just think about what you'll get for a little bit more. He'll certainly be thrilled about what a shrewd negotiator you are, won't he?"

"Not really…" America admitted, the weight of his approaching punishment becoming more apparent to him by the moment. "He was pretty adamant that we weren't going to buy land like this…" Somewhere under his breath, he mentioned about how much of a concession the simple want of New Orleans was for them.

France wrapped a comforting arm around America's shoulders. "What's the difference between a city and all those acres other than the wealth it's going to bring you? A city is important, but the land, Amérique! _The land_ is going to take you from a simple former colony into the world of nations! Isn't that what you wanted?

"The Canadas are only expanding, you know, and they aren't going to stop. If you don't grow as fast or faster… Well… do you really think you're going to turn into something more than Angleterre's lapdog?"

"I'm not a colony, anymore," America snapped. "I'm a nation."

"Exactly, but nations get swept up all the time," France told him, enunciating his words with a pointed finger. "Nations who refuse to grow die off. You've just won your freedom, do you want to end it now because you're too nervous to take a monumental opportunity when it's offered to you?"

America frowned down at his sheet of instructions, crumpled in his stress.

"He's probably at home, plotting where and when he's going to take you back into the empire. Any day now, his army will be at your door. If you're too small to fend him off…" He moved to whisper in America's ear. "It's time to grow."

"Time," America said firmly. "I need some time."

"Time for what?" France asked, in mock innocence.

"To get the money," he explained. "I only have so much on me, and the rest will have to be transferred."

France smiled down at him, and gave a reassuring pat on his shoulder. "Not too long now, Big Brother could use that money."

"I just need a few days to talk to the bank."

He left in a flurry of over-designed silk and unsteady footfalls. His giddiness at what he had, and what he thought he had, done was reserved until he was just out the door. America exploded in all the youthful, greedy ecstasy he'd always had in him.

France watched him from the window, and counted the money he'd been given. That he hardly had the authority to sell what he just had, and that Alfred had done nothing but buy his way into war with Great Britain and Spain, would probably occur to America eventually.

Sooner or later, Great Britain would realize that France had sold him a worthy rival. Maybe, eventually, a conqueror.

As long as that eventually was after all the cash was transferred over, France hardly cared.


End file.
